


Princeling's Prologue

by astraev



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Gen, Ghosts, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraev/pseuds/astraev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew promised to build the kingdom, as Mary promised to grow the princeling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Princeling's Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cienna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cienna/gifts).



I.

“Stop apologizing,” said Matthew, stroking his wife’s hair back from her face. She laid on the very edge of the bed, he lay behind her. While he was dressed for the morning, she remained in her nightgown.

“I always apologize when I’m in the wrong. It’s a habit of mine,” said Mary as she panted, trying to recover from her latest dry heave.

“You’re not in the wrong,” said Anna. “You’re sick.” She held the basin by Mary’s head. Anna looked at Matthew. “They’ve sent for Dr. Clarkston, they expect him within the hour.”

“Please move breakfast, Anna,” Mary moaned, “I don’t think I’ll be eating today either.” She leaned back from where she had been leaning over the porcelain basin and gently put her head onto her pillow.

“Can you at least try drinking some water?” said Matthew. “You’re beginning to look gaunt.” He reached for the glass from the breakfast tray, and Anna handed it to him as she dutifully moved the tray away from Mary, exiting the bedroom to take the tray back down to the kitchen.

“I don’t like to _try_ anything,” Mary muttered, hand over her eyes as she lay on the pillow. “I either do it or I don’t.”

“Of course not, my darling,” said Matthew, smiling at his wife. “Take a sip.”

Later, after Doctor Clarkson had arrived, and had seen to Mary, he joined Matthew in the young couple’s private sitting room.

“We’re petrified that someone else is going to come down with it,” said Matthew. He leaned forward, delicate cup of tea in his hands, elbows on his knees.

“She’s not sick,” said Doctor Clarkson, smiling. “She’s pregnant.”

Matthew looked at the Doctor and his eyebrows raised in delight. “Are you sure?” A wide smile crossed his face and then dimmed. “I mean, I’ve heard of women feeling nauseous, but...” he trailed off. “Will she be all right?”

“She will need monitoring,” Clarkson admitted. “She is dehydrated, and I’m concerned that she isn’t eating. But this is within the realm of normal,” he said. He sat. “Congratulations, man,” he said, smiling broadly and reaching out to shake Matthew’s hand.

As soon as Matthew could get rid of the doctor, he raced back to Mary’s side. He found her resting comfortably, her face smooth and free of pain or grief for the first time in a fortnight. She heard him come in, and opened her eyes. She didn’t move her head, but followed his movements from the door to her bedside. He sat in the straight backed wooden chair that Anna had been sitting in, tending to her.

“Our princeling has done this to you,” said Matthew, reverently. “Will you ever forgive him?”

“Of course,” said Mary, smiling. “But only after he arrives and is beautiful and healthy.”

II.

“Are you sure you should be down here?” asked Cora, in her most motherly tone. She betrayed her own happiness at the sight of her daughter, pregnant, and once again apparently healthy.

“I’m pregnant, not an invalid,” said Mary, as she sat, gingerly, on the couch. Whereas, five months before, she might have perched on the edge, she found she needed a deeper seat, and settled in. 

“You could have fooled me,” muttered Edith, and while both Cora and Mary heard her, Cora gave a reproachful look, and Mary ignored her completely.

“What have I missed about the town?” asked Mary, hand settling on her slowly swelling abdomen.

Her mother regaled Mary with stories of the flower show, and the fair come to town, things that happened every year and would happen for every year for the rest of eternity, and Mary feigned interest.

Matthew came into the room, from her father’s study, and her heart leapt for happiness.

And, for the first time, she was sure that her womb leapt too -- she imagined tiny arms and legs twisting inside her abdomen, her child jumping for joy as her heart did. She exclaimed, “Oh!” and immediately everyone was trying to be at her side. A bell was rung for the servants, and a general commotion began.

“It’s nothing,” said Mary, laughing, after a moment. She pushed them away. “I just felt the baby move.”

Her mother and sister backed off, and Matthew moved in closer. He rested his hand gingerly on her abdomen, where he often placed his hands before they fell asleep. “You felt him?” he said softly.

Mary looked into his eyes, his wonderful blue eyes, and nodded. Matthew scooped her up in a hug, and together they laughed and cried. After so much worry, it was good to know that their son had quickened, and the family joined in the congratulations.

III.

Without saying anything, the household had arranged for the room that Mary would be confined for childbirth to be different than the room where Sybil was confined, and where she had died. The hours were long in that darkened room, where she was attended by a nurse from the village. She seldom had visitors -- they were keeping Matthew away as much as possible, but her mother and Edith were allowed. Mary wasn’t sure she was enjoying Edith’s visit.

"I can't help but think that the question Sybil would ask if she were here is, ‘Are you afraid?’” Edith sat with Mary, uneasy.

"She's not here," said Mary. "And for that reason I am afraid." She said this softly, and Edith paused for a moment.

“She wouldn’t have wanted you to be afraid,” said Edith.

“She died,” said Mary, and she started to cry. “She died after our beautiful little niece was born, and she will never see her grow up.” She covered her face with one hand, and then the other, and was surprised with Edith reached out to touch her arm. “I don’t want to die, Edith,” said Mary, looking at her with tears running down her fair, eyes red-rimmed.

“Sybil would have known what to say,” said Edith, tearing up as well.

“I think she would have said that you have to be brave to get through it,” said Mary, lip quivering.

“And she would have admitted to not being brave,” said Edith. “And maybe offered to be brave for you.”  
“Will you be brave for me, Edith?” asked Mary through tears. She never liked to cry, and she never liked to show weakness, and she never would have thought to show Edith this side of herself, but she felt so alone in this hour of her need.

“Of course,” said Edith, tears streaming down her face. Edith took Mary’s hands in hers and squeezed. “I will be brave for you.”

Mary shifted in bed, suddenly uncomfortable. Her abdomen squeezed and hardened, and she moaned in pain.

“This is normal,” said the woman from the village, to Edith who looked around panicked. “She’s having a contraction. It won’t be too long, now.”

IV.

“It’s a boy!” cried Matthew, to the family gathered at dinner. He had been waiting in his sitting room, refusing to be far from Mary even if he couldn’t be with her.

They hadn’t been eating, Matthew noticed, as they all stood up and cheered and offered congratulations.

“How is Mary?” asked Cora.

“Just fine,” said Matthew. “She’s just fine. Thank God.”

Cora looked up to the ceiling and closed her eyes as she pressed her gloved hands together in prayer. "Thank God," she echoed.

V.

Mary refused to let the nurse take her son away immediately, or any time soon. After the family had filed in to admire her son, and after Matthew had been convinced that she had to rest and sleep, Mary lay on the bed, on her side, with her son’s tiny body curled against her bosom. She studied his features, his little mouth, his little tongue thrusting and rooting and looking for her breast, and she felt the greatest sense of contentment that she had ever known. She moved him closer to the breast, and the little one latched. Her toes curled from pain and pleasure. “Is this right?” she asked the nurse, who stayed in the room with her, despite her desire to be alone.

“Yes, m’lady,” said the nurse, who smiled from the rocking chair in the corner. “He’s a good eater.”

“He shall be the best eater,” Mary said distractedly. “He shall be the best everything.”

Mary heard the nurse laugh from her chair and she thought about glaring, but decided it wasn’t worth it. Her son, who did not yet have a name, was more important.

_Shall he be Robert?_ she wondered. _Or William. Or perhaps Matthew?_ She closed her eyes, just for a moment.

When she woke up, the room was dim, and her baby was sleeping soundly next to her bed in his cradle. The nurse was nowhere to be seen, but was probably in the dressing room on a cot to be available if Mary needed her. Mary slowly sat up in her bed and winced at the pain she didn’t expect to be in.

“He’s beautiful,” said a voice that she swore was Sybil’s. “You were brave, and I love you.”

Mary looked around and saw no one there. “Nurse!” she called.

The nurse appeared moments later. “Yes, Lady Mary?”

“Did you just say something?” Mary clutched her dressing robe closed over her chest.

“No, m’lady,” said the nurse. “I was sleeping.”

“I’m sorry,” said Mary. “I thought I heard something.” She shook her head. “Go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” asked the nurse.

“Quite sure,” said Mary. She forced a smile. “I’ll just be going back to sleep.”

Mary watched the nurse leave and sat silently for a moment, gazing at her baby. “Thank you, Sybil, for protecting us,” she said, softly. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to do research on who would have fed a baby born to those in the upper class in 1920. I decided to go with Mary (and overnight, probably a nurse) because when Sybil died they talked about needing to find her daughter a nurse as if they weren't planning to use one originally. 
> 
> I hope you like this! I tried to put everything you wanted -- Mary/Matthew, Sisters, and Ghosts. :D


End file.
